Logan(Wolverine)Reader fic: Don't freak out(or be one)
by EaterOfWings
Summary: Insert yourself and the grumpy (but rather hot) Logan into a story full of troubles. You have always been a freak, but with the help of the right people, maybe you could be something more; a gifted youngster. After being on the run for days, you find help. (first-meeting story)


**Don't freak out (or be one)**

ch.1 Why start from the beginning?

_You. You have done it, once again. Why do you have to be an outcast? Are you really this stupid? Anyone else would learn to stop, but not you, you have to be a stupid bitch! We didn't ask for you to be different, you rebelling kid! No, this is not us, nor our son, this is all YOU! Your fault! Now, go to your room. WE SHOULD HAVE KEPT YOU THERE IN THE FIRST PLACE!_

No, this is not real, it's not. Breathe, you tell yourself. In through the nose, and back out again. Calm yourself. They are just memories and nothing more. You are overreacting. God dammit BREATHE! Now open your fucking eyes, you must look like an idiot sitting here with your eyes closed.

You open your eyes, and wince from the bright light coming from the lamp hanging over the small booth you are sitting in. You are here and the house you are still so scared is miles away, as are the people looking for you. Stupid lamp. Stupid waitress with her stupid, awful coffee. Although you might not look like it, you have a good taste in coffee. Ah how you miss the hot steaming cappuccinos and lattes the old lady living next doors would make to you every time your so called "family" was out. You find yourself hoping she is okay. They have no reason to suspect the old lady for helping you out of there though. And talking about real coffee, your body decides to remind you about real food too. But you did not order anything besides the coffee, pointedly eyeing every splash of ketchup on the ceiling when the dumb-looking lady had asked if you would like to have something to bite. Maybe that's why the coffee was closer to dishwater than an actual drink. You should learn to control yourself better. But it really isn't your fault. This place certainly isn't the one to go when feeling ravenous, the grease on the rim of the cup just looks like it might come alive any second now. Still, you had no choice. You needed a moment of rest, even though it gives your brains the time to remember. At least when you were on the move you had no time for memories. The couple hours you managed to dose off in that old barn were dreamless and thank god for that!

The small patterns on the tablecloth remind you from the snow that had filled the state just few days ago, making it almost impossible to travel by foot. The first two days had been okay, though cold as fuck. During them you had managed to get amazingly far into another town. But just to be safe, when the snow had started to fall you had continued, heading towards north. And when the heavy white flakes had stopped covering your small footprints, you abandoned the cover of the forests and joined the busy roads filled with a mass of people. You made twists and turns along your endless journey, hoping for them to lose you for good. But despite that, this is stupid, and you know it. You should be hiding! You know, deep down inside that they are still looking for you and if someone will find you, it's them. Have you succeeded before? No, you haven't. Even though you had a nice head-start last time you tried running away, they caught you in no time. And was it worth it? Yes, it was, actually. You learned new routes and bought yourself a map before they dragged you back. And this time, you are prepared. In the darkness of the early winter-nights, for the past few days you have been practicing with empty cans and other trash you have found along the road. You are not as helpless anymore and when they find you, you are ready to fight for your life. You want to be free, one way or another.

You should get up, pay the awful stuff they call coffee here, and get the fuck out. What a waste of money! But the tough running and hiding you have kept up for the past five days has gotten to you. You are tired. Never before in your entire life have you felt so heavy …not even when the neighbour's truck had started to pull you. It had not been nice but the look on your so called father's face had been priceless though. But THAT had not been your fault. You had been barely old enough to understand the "birds and the bees", but had they blamed you for it? Of course they had. No big surprises there either. Everything weird that happened around you, no matter if it had something to do with metal or not, it was always you being a freak. And during the long nights you had been lying on your thin mattress, unable to grasp the sleep you had had plenty of time to think. You had never had many memories, but all you remembered was fear caused by your "family". And for a long time now, you had been confused. What was your story? Where did you really come from? Did you even have a story?

Unable to even think about drinking the little coffee there is left you push the cup away, and feel grateful they had plastic spoons. But not everything here is made from it, you remind yourself. You get yourself together and prepare to stand up. You almost smile from relief when you dig the last note from the pocket of your old rugged leatherjacket and place it down on the table. The luck is on your side today for there are no coins on the same pocket. There are not many customers besides you, but still you fell the uneasy feeling settling down onto your stomach. Now, concentrate! One thing at the time. One: get your bag. The most important thing is to keep your valuables close to you. You grasp the bag as you slip it over your right shoulder, the nervousness in you bubbling. Part two: stand up. Slowly and carefully not to catch anyone's attention. You sweep your eyes over the small café. There are three possible routes that take you to the door and into the freedom. The first one goes near the counter on your right, past one corner table and to the door. But there are coins on the tip jar on the counter. The corner table is empty though, so it is an option, for now. The second option is to go straight forward and catch practically everyone's attention which is risky and not good at all and so not an option. The last one is to go to your left and past at least five tables that have customers in two of them. It's a risky one, too. There are forks and knives and keys and therefore this is NOT an option either. As soon as the horrified shouts from the customers would alert the waitress, she would reach for the phone and make THE CALL. The only possible solution in your situation is route number one. It's not non-dangerous either but it's the best at hand. Brace yourself, you think, you can do it. You got in just fine, thought there were no customers then and it was easier to sneak into your booth. You've done shit worse than this. But now, places, lights and action! The third part: make it out alive.

You rise from your seat, slowly as planned and start walking. No-one is looking at you, so why are you feeling so anxious all of sudden? There is nothing to be nervous about, you chant inside your head, as you try to keep your steps steady. You are almost halfway to the door, when you pass the counter. You feel your knees wobble a bit and your hands feel sweaty when the tip jar moves towards you few inches. The pull is not strong enough for it to fall to the floor or worse, fly to you but just to make sure you walk just a little bit faster and the jar stays where it is. The corner table is still empty and the place is silent as you pass it, letting out a breath you didn't even realize you were holding. As relief fills you, you extend your hand and push instead of gripping the metal handle of the old wooden door.

And you collide with someone's broad chest and stumble to stay on your feet.

The owner of said body grunts angrily and glares at you. The man must be at least on his 60s and the slightly grey beard and the stomach that tells a tale of drinking habit would be hilarious if the man would not be directing his anger towards you. You cast your eyes down and move aside, hoping for him to drop it and move along. You are not THAT scared, you just would like to avoid leaving clues of your visit behind. And a fight with a bear like this would no doubt leave a pretty visible one. You know you look pretty helpless and small and hope the man will ignore you if you play stupid. He leans in and you smell the whisky in his breath. Great, you think, another drunk lumberjack.

"Hey there little kid, watch where you're going or do I have to show you how to?"

With all your will you resist rolling your eyes, as you back further away and shake your head. A wise one picks their battles, and you can tell this is not one you want to participate in. Okay, you can survive this one, right? Just don't get too cocky this time and play stupid. You fight a shiver as the bruises from the last time you got into trouble ache under your clothes.

"No sir, I am terribly sorry. I shall go and find someone to teach me a lesson so you don't have to get dirt on your shoes."

You can practically see the wheels inside the fat idiot's head turning, thinking if he was being mocked and you almost begin to wonder if your reply was too much. You tend to do that. Though clever you know you let out stupid things that you really should keep to yourself. What can you say, you live for the danger. It doesn't take much longer for the man to decide you a clearly a retard who amuses him.

"Well isn't that nice of you, kid. Now get out of here so I don't have to ruin my new gloves either over something so worthless like you."

"Yes sir!"

You wait for him to pass you before hurrying outside. Talk about luck! That pig needs to be taught a lesson in how to treat ladies. And though you might not look like a princess you are not bad looking, despite every word of mockery and bullying, you know it. You feel frustrated for not getting to be the one to teach that drunk. But as the cold wind sweeps over you the regret of leaving the warm building appears. You huff stuffing your hands into your pockets and are about to start your journey again. You have no freaking idea what time it is, but by the way the moon is shining over the silent landscape you guess it must be closer to 11 pm. You ponder your options for the night. You could find a shelter somewhere, maybe an abandoned barn of some sort. Or you could wait here, hidden, and when a truck or a van stops climb in and continue to where ever it would take you. You grimace at the coldness surrounding your feet as the wet snow seeps in through the holes in your worn boots. Your clothes are not the best ones either. A tight jeans, a tank-top and an old leatherjacket that is far too big for your tall but slender frame. At least you have your jet black hair to cover your ears and neck. Catching a cold is the last thing you need right now. And just as that thought has formed into your mind, it's snowing again. You curse using all the nastiest words you know, and that is quite a long list that you are rather proud of, thank you very much.

And then it hits you that there is something cold in your pocket. A piece of metal stuck on your wrist? As you withdraw your hand from the pocket that has seen better days, you smile. There are keys on your wrist, just innocently hanging there, silently clinking on the wind. Among them hangs a small figurine of a motorbike, and you feel your hopes getting up. You lift your eyes and your smile turns brighter still. A motorbike, colors of hotrod red and silver gleaming on the night. That beauty was not here when you arrived. The keys must have gotten stuck on you when you collided with the drunk. You guess that your freakishness was bound to come in handy sometimes. Not looking back towards the small café you walk over to it. You throw yourself on its black leather seat and take a deep breath. First time during any of your escapes you have something faster to move with. This opens you countless chances, now you are free to go wherever you want! But as soon as you will turn the bike on, the drunk will probably come outside to stop you, meaning you only have one shot at this. You have never driven a bike like this before, but as you close your eyes, you can practically feel it waiting for you to turn it on.

_Hello?_ You ask, hesitating.

_Easy_, it answers. _I'm easy to drive and stolen anyway. You can take me. The fat bastard was disgusting anyway. He stole me from Him. And if you promise to give me back to Him, I will help you. I can take you somewhere safe. _

The bike is talking to you, just like every machine you have touched before too. Except this one you actually like. It's spicy and sarcastic like you, but it also is the first one to want to help you. And you need help.

_Help me, I need to get away! Anywhere will do, I just need to get far away from the southern part of this state!_

The bike's headlight turns on, showing you the snowy road ahead and the silent forest surrounding it.

_I'll take you away. We will go find Him. He will help you. Just put the key in and twist it._

With a shaking hand you pull the keys away from your wrist and push the one you think is the right one inside. You hold your breath and twist. You might have thought the roaring noise to be scary or annoying, but you find it calming and somehow energetic. And just like you predicted, the drunk recognizes the sound of his bike. Or rather "his" bike. Over the bike you hear a sound of a door being opened and a shout. You know it's the drunk. A glance over your left shoulder confirms your fears. The man is angry and heading towards you two.

_C'mon, put your hands where they belong and we will go!_

You obey, and feel the pull between your hands and the metal and you know you have nothing to worry about. You hold onto with a victorious smile as the bike speeds and takes off to the road. An angry shout fills the air behind you, and you lift your right hand with a small struggle to flash your middle-finger to the fat pig standing there. A silent laugh climbs up your throat as you close your eyes against the icy wind, for the first time in ages enjoying the moment. You feel so free. You open your green eyes and look around. In the limited light of the moon there is not much to look at, but you can see the black figures of trees along the road and the swirling snow around you two. You try to push the numbing coldness from your mind and trusting the magnetic pull to keep you seated on the bike, you pull your zipper up to protect your lithe body from winter.

A little whisper of worry sneaks around your mind, reminding you about not leaving any trails behind for them to find but you wave it away. Enjoy the moment, for you are free for now. There is no way they come around here to look for anyway. During your past escapes you have always stayed in a big city, and now that you have left the cities behind and travelled through forests and smaller towns they will never know where to look for you. You smile in the cold night air. Sometimes you feel too clever for your own good!

You have always liked talking to machines, and if there is one thing you have noted about them is that they often remind their owners in many ways. The person this bike is talking about, _Him_, seems to be its' owner. You can't help but wonder what He is like. If the bike knows what it's talking about, then maybe you will get some help. If the person who owns this bike is anything like the machine then perhaps you two will get along and you can talk him into helping you.

You blink your eyes open against the now more gentle breeze, glancing around and taking in your surroundings. You feel confused for a moment before you realize you must've fallen asleep, for the sun is out again. Or rather, would be, if there wouldn't be a veil of grey clouds filling the sky. At least there is no snow falling this time. And you smile, for once again your freakish powers did something good for you! The magnetic pull between you and the metal of the bike prevented you from falling off. Something to be grateful, you think. And wince when you stretch your numb finger wrapped loosely around the metal. You really could use gloves, even mittens would be better than nothing, but you need to think your reputation. You don't even flinch when the bike talks inside your head, a welcoming noise in the middle of the soothing roar of its' engine.

_Morning, sleeping beauty! We have gotten pretty far, but my tank is emptying slowly. I think we are close to Him and won't need to stop before getting there. How are you feeling?_

You smile and lift your hand to comb through your cold hair, still a bit soaked from the snow.

_Actually, I don't feel half-bad this morning, besides the raging of my stomach of course. How long do you think it'll take us to get to Him?_

_I'd say we catch up to that idiot tonight, if He doesn't decide to do something really stupid. That would be typical him. A thunder-head like that, no doubt he is getting in trouble...again._

You laugh at the eye-roll so obvious in the bikes voice and settle yourself more comfortably on its' seat. You count in your head, wondering how many hours it's been since you two took off. Nine or ten perhaps? Geez, maybe you really should have concentrated on your math lessons when you still got to go to the school! And you have no idea where you are! Somewhere north?

_Hey_, you say after a moment,_ would you mind slowing down a bit? I need to look at my map, I like to keep track of where I've been._

_Sure. We are now in Nebraska, and we are approaching one of its' northern cities. We are still on the same road, number 62 I think. You slept for a good nine hours. Is this slow enough?_

_Yes, thank you._

As you feel the bike slowing a bit, you release your both hands and open your back, careful not to let anything to drop. The speed is just slow enough for you to open the map in your lap and with a_ click_ you have a pen ready in your hand. You draw a line all the way from the café to where you think you are right now. Another _click_ and you slide the pencil away along with the folded map. You close the camouflage-patterned bag with care, you can't risk losing any of your stuff at this point. Your other hand is back where it should be, giving the impression YOU are driving. The other finds its way to your red mouth, teeth biting into a nail. You are nervous again. Surely…surely they had no way to find you now? They would never think you to travel north, would they? The uneasiness was back again, filling your head with images of horror and the horrible what if – whispers. What if they know where you are…they sent the bike to get me…STOP IT! You scream to yourself, full of anger. They aren't even aware of your skill to interact with machines. Why can you not believe when someone wants to help you from their own will? You NEED to leave the past behind. It is, they are, in past. Now let's go and make a future, you think, amazing yourself with the positive energy you have all of sudden.

_Hey kid, are you okay?_

You look at the bike, guessing it can sense your moods and smile.

_Yeah, just bad memory coming back… Did He ever give you a name? The guy who you belong to? You know, I sort of feel bad for just calling you "a bike"._

_He always calls me Baby._

You can feel the pride on its voice and you pat it gently.

_Alright Baby, lets speed up!_

You can feel the Baby purring beneath you as it speeds again, the world turning almost blurry as the wind whips your long hair, and once again you laugh. The amount of your smiles in these two days is more than during your whole life. Damn, your life really sucked! You don't dare to look down to check your speed, but on the other hand who cares? You had a nice bike to sit on and someone who could help at the end of this road. The hard part was over.

The hard part, you realize five long hours later, was NOT over.

Baby had turned down on a smaller road that led into a medium sized city. It wasn't the New York, just few neon-lights shining. And it was getting dark, again. You felt the burning need to get out of there and continue your way north and away. Has your instinct been wrong before? Nope, not when it has something to do with troubles. But you need to do this, you promised. And you don't break a promise! So many have betrayed you, and you are NOT going to do the same to someone else. But you can practically smell the troubles reeking from the low building you two were parked before. Certainly not a good sign. But what can you do, you can not back down now.

_We actually found Him! Dear lord he must be in a cage fight in there! Go and return my keys to Him and He will help you! That is, unless he is drunk like a tree like last time I was stolen._

_… Somehow I think I don't want to know how a tree can be drunk… There is ONE little point though, I have no idea what He looks like!_

_Oh…good point._

You try to fight the smile creeping slowly on your face, as you wait for the details from the bike. It would not look good for your reputation, after all. A young lady sitting on a parked motorbike, smiling to herself and staring the said bike. Not a good impression.

_Well, I mean He is a male and, uh well, I don't actually know His age… But He is tall, taller than you and has this funny hair I've always liked! And the beard matches it quite nicely now that I think of it… And He always wears The Boots! They are leather and I really like them. I mean if I had legs I would like totally wear boots like that!_

_You do realize that is NOT helping?_

_… Yeah._

You can once again feel the frustration on its voice as it tries its best to explain its owner. Fight the smile, you remind yourself

_I can't really say more, well I think He is something the females of your race would call "hot". And He is tall. And I bet you my both wheels that he is on the cage right now, you see He has muscles and likes to fight so…yeah. And has nice hair. Go and find Him?_

_…I'll try._

You rise up and think of a plan. You have always been good in thinking the problem from every side before jumping in. It's smart but also keeps you alive. You look around, still leaning on the bike. On your right there is a silent shop that seems to be already closed and so offers you no help. A glance to your left. There is a building that has a public toilets…You smile. Once again your brains did not leave you hanging. You give Baby one last pat and a gentle smile.

_I guess I'll see you soon, if this mysterious He will help me?_

The bike seems almost sad as it answers to you.

_Of course He will. So no goodbyes, you hear me! Now go, shoo!_

You give up and let the smile take over your face, and with a chuckle and a loving pat you head to your left.

The streets are quiet at this time already, with one exception: the Low building has an aura of life around it. And troubles. You sigh as you make your way towards the building. The raging metal tune is echoing from the walls and you can't help but hum along to it. A metalhead to the spirit and blood.

You keep your eyes open and avoid anything that might have metal in it and dodge around the empty beer cans to the door. Using your elbow you push the cracked white door in. Inside is as horrible as every public toilet; full of smells and who knows what. You go through the door on your right that has a poorly drawn picture of lady in it. You are glad the building seems to be empty at the moment as you walk to the old mirror hanging over the dirty sinks. You put your bag down on the counter and take off your leatherjacket. With determination you start washing your face and neck and until all the traces of dirt and blood are gone. You then lift your head and almost jump. The image on the mirror is shocking and… not you. A thin young lady with nicely shaped arms (though not too much!) and a sixpack almost visible through your top. Long legs and pale skin. You look so much older now and somehow more adult. A tough life makes you grow up, you guess. You pull out the small bag that has your limited collection of make-ups. No face creams, just mascara and dark-red lipstick. Normally you hate wearing make-up but this…this is an emergency. It doesn't take you long, after all, you have done this before. The dirty vagabond has turned into what is more like you, but more beautiful and confident than you could ever be. Green eyes framed with long lashes and a full mouth painted red. You can do it. And if you do it right you might not even get beaten up tonight! You throw your jacket back on and whip your hair, pulling an easy, bored smile on your now clean face. Rule one: get your belongings kicks in automatically and you swing the bag over your shoulder, slipping the metal keys in your jean-pocket. With a small struggle you get them to stay there. With confidence and a sway in your steps you walk back outside and take in your surroundings before heading towards the bar. Avoid a puddle of melted snow… empty can on the left…

You walk past Baby, giving it a thumb up while continuing your way towards the saloon-look-a-like-doors. Now, you need all the possible powers you have. You stare at the doors as your steps bring you closer to them by every passing second. You reach inside and gather the power… And you push it out, covering every metal object in there that you can, which isn't much. You can feel how you secured just the front part of the building. Now you don't need to worry about attracting metal towards you, as long as you stay close to the doors. You really need more training. Two wooden steps up and through the doors you go.

Smoke, sweat, music and shouts. Men, you scoff. On the outside you look like a perfect goddess but on the inside, you are a wreck. You have learned to keep your emotions and fears to yourself and right now, it comes in handy. With a bored look plastered on your face you walk few steps to the bar and sit on the high stool. A flirtatious smile and there is a whiskey with a hopeful "on the house" from the bartender. You grant him a smile and turn to your left to see the cage. The men around it are cheering and shouting, some waving their money and some looking at you. As your heart beat speeds up, you fight the panic rising inside and lift your glass with a wink. The crowd whistles in joy. There are two men on the cage. Other one is clearly bigger and bald, while the one leaning against the cage on the other side is smaller, but not a weakling in any way. Tall, tanned man with enough muscle to make a whole roomful of women swoon and a funny hair… a funny hair…

"Hey sweetie! How about a kiss for a good luck?"

You are proud, for your smile does not waver from disgust as you look at the bald man practically drooling over you, and the crowd is waiting for your answer. You lift your eyebrow.

"Think it as a reward. As they say, the winner takes it all."

The place fills with cheers as the man yells:

"Okay then, the break is over! Now if you will excuse me, I have a neck to break and a woman to catch!"

More cheering. You drink your glass with one gulp. The roaring mass of men is now fully focused to the fight and you frown. You have found Him. The funny hair and oh yes He definitely IS hot. But there is no way you can just walk there and throw him the keys or ask Him to help you. The room is full of metal, damn the cage could pull you right in and getting away from it would mean using your skills. But you have focused all of your energy elsewhere, and… you need to accept your fate. You were not meant to be saved by miracles. And waiting for the fight to end is NOT an option. All these men drooling over you is starting to make you feel anxious again. You ponder your options, before turning to the bartender who is immediately all yours. You can do it, just make him feel important. That always works for the men, always.

"Hey, I was just wondering if you would be a darling and do me a little favor…"

He is enchanted by you immediately.

"Yes of course anything!"

You extend your hand and use the little power you can pull together to make the keys not to stick on you as you put them down on the table. Another smile and a flutter of eyelashes. Oh this is too easy for you.

"Well you see, I lost a stupid bet and they wanted to have my bike. But unfortunately I really need to run before his match ends…Could you be a sweetie and make sure he gets them? It's important. Please?"

"Yes of course sure, I'll make personally sure he gets them and give them myself. Who do I give them?"

"Make sure you give them to the handsome one in the cage. You know, the smaller one that is there now against that disgusting pig?"

The man leans slightly back and realization dawns on his face.

"You know Wolverine? Are you like, friends? Wow that is so cool."

You repeat the name is your head to remember it. _Wolverine_. You have nothing else to do here, and by the sounds it's clear that the match is ending soon. You need to get out of here, quickly.

"Yes, now be a darling and give him a shot after he is finished with beating the other guy. See ya, hun."

You blow a small kiss to him and wink before hopping down and walk to the door. You have just enough patience to wait until you are out of the door until you run. Hard. You pass Baby and give it a sad wave. You can almost hear it shout after you. Where on earth are you going? You have no idea. You slow down at the edge of the town and curse. It is snowing again. Where did your luck go? You start to walk along the small road to get to the highway once more. Pulling your jacket closer to your body you do what you have always known the best; you continue escaping.


End file.
